


bedtime passed

by renecdote



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Dick is Batman, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling, Sickfic, emphasis on the comfort for once, idk what this is, it was just an excuse to write dick carrying damian to bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 13:04:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17224598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renecdote/pseuds/renecdote
Summary: Damian slept through Batman returning and Dick carrying him upstairs, but of course he stirs as soon as Dick pulls back the sheets and sets him down on the bed.Dick returns from patrol and finds his Robin waiting up for him. He carries Dami to bed and things get fluffy.





	bedtime passed

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Toni whose amazing art inspired this tiny little fic.

Dick pushes back the cowl, pausing for a moment to breathe in the still air of the bunker. He closes his eyes, tries not to think about how strange it is not hearing the sounds of bats overhead. There is only the irregular ticks of the Batmobile’s engine as it cools—and something else, a faint whistling sound almost like snoring. Dick opens his eyes and follows it, shaking his head in exasperation even as a fond smile softens the lines of stress in his face.

There’d been no Robin on patrol with him tonight on account of Damian being sick. He’d protested staying home from patrol, argued that he wasn’t that ill, that even if he was he could fight through it.

“I have _training_ , Grayson,” he had said. Arms crossed, glare undermined by his watering eyes, nose scrunched up as he tried not to sneeze. 

“You’re sick,” Dick had replied firmly, “you need to rest not fight crime.”

It took the combined efforts of Alfred and Dick, but eventually they convinced Damian to rest for the night. Or at least, Dick thought they had. Instead Damian is slumped over in front of the computer, legs pulled up on the chair, head pillowed atop his arms on the edge of the desk. There is a blanket pulled tightly around his shoulders—no, Dick realises when he gets closer, not a blanket but a cape. Not Robin’s, it’s too big and there’s no bright yellow. Damian must have pulled the one off the spare Batman costume. 

“Dami?” Dick whispers, unsure whether he actually wants to wake his brother up. On the one hand, sleeping like that cannot be comfortable. On the other, Damian is actually sleeping and Dick is loathe to disturb him. Any rest is better than no rest. 

Damian snuffles but does not wake. Dick waits another few seconds then decides to leave him be for a moment longer. He showers quickly and changes into the clean sweatpants and t-shirt Alfred must have brought down for him earlier. Warm and clean, damp hair curling around his ears, Dick ventures back out into the cool air of the bunker and finds Damian is still fast asleep. 

He must feel comfortable, Dick realises. Safe. The lightest of touches or quietest of sounds could wake the kid when he first came to Gotham. Now here he is sleeping through the roar of the Batmobile returning. When Dick crouches down and lifts Damian onto his back, he sleeps through that too. The only sign that he’s aware of what’s happening at all is the curling of his fingers against Dick’s shoulder. 

The trip up to the penthouse in the elevator is quick but Dick is aware of every second with Damian’s warm face against the back of his neck. He wonders whether he should wake his brother up to take more medicine, or if it would be better to just let him sleep. He should probably ask Alfred.

But Alfred is nowhere to be seen when they come out of the elevator. Dick hesitates, Damian’s weight slipping down a little. He adjusts his grip, lifts his brother back up into a more secure position. Better to put Damian to bed first, Dick decides, then find Alfred to ask whether he should have more medicine.

Damian slept through Batman returning and Dick carrying him upstairs, but of course he stirs as soon as Dick pulls back the sheets and sets him down on the bed. Foggy green eyes blink up at Dick in confusion.

“Grayson?”

Dick pulls the covers up to Damian’s neck then sits on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, kiddo, it’s me. You fell asleep downstairs.”

Dick thinks about saying he shouldn’t have been down there. The cold air can’t be good while he’s sick—and really the only place he should have been is bed. Now isn’t the time for a lecture though, not even one that is mild and born out of concern. 

“You’re hurt,” Damian mumbles, fingers reaching up to hover over Dick’s eye where the skin is dark and swollen.

Dick gently pushes Damian’s hand back down and tucks it beneath the covers. “Just a bruise,” he says, “hardly the worst I’ve had. It doesn’t even hurt.”

Damian does not look placated. If anything, his frown gets deeper. “I should have been there,” he says, no less resolute for the hoarseness of his voice. “I’m supposed to watch your back. Stop your from… from getting hurt.”

“It’s not your fault I got hurt,” Dick says. “You’re sick, resting and getting better is more important than looking out of me.”

“But ‘m Robin.” Damian is flagging already, losing the battle to keep his eyes open. A yawn sneaks up on him and when it’s over Damian’s voice is only a sleepy mumble. “‘M your brother.”

Dick smiles. He brushes back Damian’s hair and kisses his forehead. “And you’re a great Robin,” he says, “a great little brother. Now let me be the big brother and look after you, okay?”

Damian’s response is little more than a disgruntled hum. He curls onto his side and it brings him closer to Dick. On purpose? It’s hard to tell, sometimes, what Damian wants from Dick. He’s usually so verbose about refusing affection, so careful to hide the actions that betray him behind barbed words. Every day they spend together though, those barbs dull a bit. Dick is confident now that he can look past them completely to the emotion being hidden below. And tonight, defences crumbled by illness, the barbs have disappeared completely. 

“Hey, don’t fall asleep just yet,” Dick says, spurred by a sudden rush of affection. “Shuffle over.”

“You’ll get sick too,” Damian protests, but it’s half-hearted. 

“Well then it will be your turn to care of me.”

There’s just enough room for them both to fit in the bed. Dick pulls the covers back up over them and hug Damian close. It’s almost too hot and he thinks again that Damian’s fever must be too high. But it’s comfortable too, and right now cuddling his brother is more important than finding a thermometer. Alfred will probably come seek Dick out soon to see if he returned from patrol unharmed, Dick will get him to check Damian’s fever then.

“Were you worried?” Dick asks, thinking of no other reason for Damian to sit up waiting in the bunker. Thinking of his own vigils waiting for Bruce as a kid when he was forced to stay home from patrol.

“No,” Damian says. 

Dick squeezes him gently, drops another quick kiss on the top of his brother’s head. “I’m sorry,” he says, and he is because he should have known how a Robin would feel sitting home alone unable to watch their Batman’s back. “I promise I was careful.”

Damian doesn’t say anything.

“And I’ll be more careful next time, until you’re well enough to go out again.”

For a long moment Dick thinks Damian must have fallen asleep while he was talking. And then there’s a quiet, “Good.”

“Goodnight, Dami,” Dick whispers. 

The only response he gets is the quiet whistling snores of his brother’s congested breathing. Dick smiles, making a mental note to comment on how cute the sound is in the morning. He wonders whether Damian’s face will scrunch up the way it does when he’s offended. Maybe Dick will tell him how cute that is as well.

For now, he lets his eyes fall shut and joins his brother in sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Comments and kudos are always appreciated if you liked it :) You can also find me on tumblr [here](http://renecdote.tumblr.com).


End file.
